


Tea Leaves and Coffee Grounds

by otakuashels



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, America/England Feels (Hetalia), Coffee Shops, Cute, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otakuashels/pseuds/otakuashels
Summary: There's something about sheets in the morning, warmed through the night by a body that is not your own. Something about the smell of a loved one overpowering the smell of one's ordinary detergent, hot skin pressed against yours coupled with the ache in your limbs that spoke of late night satisfaction and bonding. A cherished pain that only belonged as an after effect that only came with physical displays of love.  The slow breathing of sleep punctuated by the occasional soft snore,  a lazy morning uninterrupted by alarm clocks, overstuffed day planners and the press of media.





	Tea Leaves and Coffee Grounds

There's something about sheets in the morning, warmed through the night by a body that is not your own. Something about the smell of a loved one overpowering the smell of one's ordinary detergent, hot skin pressed against yours coupled with the ache in your limbs that spoke of late night satisfaction and bonding. A cherished pain that only belonged as an after effect that only came with physical displays of love. The slow breathing of sleep punctuated by the occasional soft snore, a lazy morning uninterrupted by alarm clocks, overstuffed day planners and the press of media. Even then run seemed to reach languidly into the sky as if he could not even be bothered by the expectations of society.

That was the morning Arthur found himself waking to. It was no surprise that Alfred was still asleep, it was quite common for Arthur to wake up before the younger man. Though, the assumption the Alfred was a laze about in the morning was far from the truth. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair with a yawn as he watched the sleeping man. Once Alfred was awake he had a tendency to be very-gungho and hit the floor running. Even with his late nights he had no problem charging out of the gates, the boy seemed to need less sleep than the average individual. However, when it was time to crash Alfred was down for the count. Arthur chuckled as he remembered Alfred's last visit to see him in London. The boy didn't move an inch for seventeen hours, Arthur had thought him dead.

The American's face was smooth in the morning light, like a blank slate. It was only when he was asleep that his face did not play a myriad of emotions. He was quiet and unusually calm, sleep having a profound hold on him. Reaching over Arthur gave into the itch to run his fingers through Alfred's hair. Two years ago if anyone told him that he would be attending school in America and dating one of the nation's citizens, he would have told them to return to the looney bin where they belonged. Running his hands through strands of flaxen blond a pleased noise escaped the back of his throat as arms tightened about his torso, the younger mumbling innocent dream talk.

Mornings like this were beautiful, and it was times like this when Arthur was reminded that it was the little things in life that mattered. He would have loved nothing more than to just crawl back into sleep's embrace and wake with the sun high in the sky.

However, his internal clock would not allow him to drift away. Now a quiet moment over a cup of tea sounded highly appealing. Rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning quietly Arthur reluctantly wormed his way out of the other's arms comma glad that Alfred's bedroom was covered with plush carpet. Swinging his legs over and wriggling his toes of the threads Arthur looked to the closet on the opposing wall. Alfred's opening closet was split into thirds, 1/3 of it belonging to Arthur. It was a small collection of suits for business meetings and important functions, a few casual clothes and other odds and ends. Standing up and stretching, joints popping Arthur located a pair of flannel pants and Alfred section of the closet. It appears to be the most comfortable pair of sleepwear in the room. Moving to the closet, he plucked them from the hanger with care. Pulling them over his hips and drawing the waistband tight he made a mental note to ask Alfred where he purchased the trousers.

They were ridiculously comfortable, he certainly would have to get a pair, rubbing his thighs Arthur reviled in the soft slide of fabric against his skin. Over his shoulder, he watched the slow rise and fall of Alfred's chest as the younger blonde remained oblivious to the passing of the world. Pulling open the bedroom door he patted down the hall and the ten carpeted stairs quietly. A cup of tea would be perfect. Arthur couldn't help but shake his head, and amusement, as he entered the all-too-familiar white kitchen the kitchen was a stark white from the walls to the countertops and any color, came into colors alone. From cabinet handles dish towels blue and red. It was like an American flag, or a British flag depending on who you ask, had drained its colors into the room. Reaching into the cabinet to the right of the stainless steel sink Arthur pulled out a large mug period the mud cabinet used to be above the sink, out of his reach. However, when things have gotten serious between the pair Alfred had moved around the kitchen, everything Arthur used when he was visiting was moved lower. The boy could be immensely considerate if he tried.

Pressing the small switch on the electric kettle Arthur gave a hub of approval. He was glad that he convinced the American that such kitchen tools necessary for survival. The boy had been using a stovetop kettle, and if you talked to anybody who knew how to make a good cup of a would tell you that was completely out of date. Pulling up with the drawer that was at hip height he reached for the collection of tea bags. Earl Grey, he was out of English breakfast, something they would have to remedy when they went to the store later. Arthur briefly debated about making his morning drink different, sweeter. He would have to get into the milk and sugar regardless since he was going to start a pot of coffee for the sleeping American.

But a London Fog so early in the morning was not something he normally did. London fogs were the only drink that Alfred could make for him properly. Running the fingers along the rim of his teacup, and an unchecked smile lifted his cheeks. Grabbing the bag of ground coffee beans on the counter Arthur flipped the lid of the coffee pot open, measuring out the grounds. Double checking the water level small fingers pushed the buttons, starting the machine. Turning back to his own cup of tea, the warmth in his chest only increased. It took the idiot a whole year for him to learn how to make him his cup properly. Leaning against the counter with a sentimental mind he briefly visited memories brought to the front of his mind by a simple drink. One would simply have to enter a cafe.

 

I believe that a coffee shop should be a feeling. There is just something about them, especially the ones that prefer to sequence. I want nothing to do with those retail chains, cool, metallic and stiff. No character and all the same, filled with young adolescents primed with the most recent of Trends, the football mums and all the way to stiff-lipped, perfectly tailored Ralph Lauren. Ridicule me if you will, but I prefer the lure of a local, organic and overpriced, for the right reasons of course. Dim lighting, endless and seamless conversations tripping over one another, overstuffed book bags and totes unfamiliar little Oddities that had made the place their own.

The calming scent of wet coffee grounds and damp pressed tea. Soft chattering, pens scratching against the paper, pencil and sketchbook, The flick of paperback novels. Mismatched chairs scraping to and from tables that had been familiar with better days before bearing the weight of college deadlines, stories, poetry, and debate. Always the same faces week-to-week, regardless of streaming sun rays or chili nips of snow. All routine and comfortable familiarity, my regular Sunday evening routine.

The snow being dumping from the sky did little to waylay me. I walked in, and it's the flurries of white and the bite of a December wind. Pulling off my hat and emerald scarf I dug for my billfold in the back pocket of my favorite blue jeans. " Good evening Toris. The usual please." I felt the smile freeze on my face as the natural eyes I had become accustomed to seeing were now a startling shade of blue and at least half a foot taller. I was so used to Toris's quiet voice with a soft kind smile. However, it seemed as if things were about to change.

“With that order, you must be Arthur!” Blue eyes and a bright 100-watt smile. That certainly was a change of pace. Hair, the color of flaxen wheat, bounced as the young man practically jumped on his heels. “Toris told me you’d be by and to put a scone aside for you!” The newest addition to my never changing coffee shop disappeared beneath the counter, giving me but half a second to gather my wits.

Rarely I am caught off guard, of that I am certain, but when something or someone so profound breaks my regular routine, even someone so set in their ways couldn't help being caught off guard. Ocean blue eyes watched me from behind square frames, all framed by flaxen hair that I would bet my bottom dollar was soft to the touch. "Ah, Alfred." I said slowly "Well my name, is indeed Arthur." I pushed forward exact change across the counter, taking a deep breath and looked towards my usual table in the corner by the window, a table with four uneven legs, chipped brown wood and a singular pleather armchair. "I’ll take an enormous early gray, the loose leaf presented separate at the table, two tablespoons of sugar," I said firmly. I was a little embarrassed about admitting that I had a bit of a sweet tooth in particular instances. "With whole milk, none of this 2% nonsense, real milk. A London fog." I finally added on as realized that I had not even told him the menu item. "And a scone."

"Wow." Alfred chortled. "Tall order. As I said, Toris told me you would be coming in, and he had me set that scone aside for you. Although I am not sure why you would choose to eat a scone when you have the option to eat Felik's chocolate cake!" Alfred laughed, turning away to grab a Syron wrapped plate. The boy had large hands as if one of his could encompass both of my own with ease. 

"Whatever Feliks bakes seems to come out well, so I don't think that it really matters," I responded lightly, referring to Toris’ husband. I was quite familiar with the pair because I religiously wrote in this coffee shop since it opened three years ago. 

"Ya, but the cake is to die for."Alfred grinned at me as he unwrapped the glassware. 

"I am confident that no baked product is to die for." I pointed out dryly. 

"But if there was one," Alfred countered "Felik's stuff would definitely be the one."

"I could see where one might think that." I relented before adding "Though if I want a cannoli or something, I will head down to the Vargas bakery down the block."

"I've heard good things about that bakery! Everyone praises it!" 

"You haven't been?" now that caught me by surprise. With how much Alfred had been praising Felik's baking I assumed that he would have indeed stopped by the bakery down the way. I took the plate from his hand as he gave it to me. 

"Nah, not yet. Here let me go make your tea." Alfred beamed, and as I nodded, he turned to grab what he needed. 

Taking that as a signal that I was free to head out I turned and headed towards my small table. Shrugging my messenger bag off my shoulder as I settled into the armchair I set the plate down and dug for my notebook and pen. I was already late on starting on today's writing. I really couldn't afford to fall behind my self-assigned schedule. Breaking off a corner of my scone, I popped it into my mouth as I unfolded a piece of paper, looking at the jotted down scribbles that represented everything from my sporadic ideas to items that had yet to make it to my grocery list. The clinking of porcelain against porcelain caught my attention, yet it was the sound of a chair being dragged up to the table that caused me to look up. No one ever bothered me.   
Looking over the top of steam curling from a teacup and back into blue eyes. 

"So as I was saying, no I haven't been to the Vargas bakery yet." Alfred smiled, continuing our polite conversation from just a few minutes ago. I couldn't help but stare at him. I had simply been polite and made small talk with my barista. I hadn't expected it to actually turn into a real conversation. 

"Really?" I took the small infuser and lowered it into the hot milk. I was particular about my tea, it had to be brewed for a given moment, or it just didn't taste right. A sharp chime sounded through the shop, carrying loudly over the chatter of other patrons. A couple walked in, wrapped up in one another as they headed up to the counter. 

"Nah, as much as I love Feliks' cake I don't have much of a sweet tooth, " he responded, glancing at the couple. " I am much more of a burger and coke guy....well it looks like duty calls. " Alfred grinned as he got to his feet. "That was fun, nice to meet you though, I will definitely talk to you later." with that he turned and jogged to the counter, belting out a warm greeting to his newest customers. 

"Well, that was interesting," I muttered watching Alfred. That bright smile never left his face as he took the customer's order. Alfred's arrival was certainly a surprise, not unpleasant, but certainly, something that he hadn't expected. I am certainly a creature of habit, and I have no problem admitting that things changing without my permission were not something I appreciated. I suppose I could let this one slid by. Turning around it took everything in my power not to fidget as I opened up my notebook to a blank page. I could feel Alfred's attention on me, his gaze burning into my back, through my jacket, my emerald plaid shirt and leaving a trail on my pale skin. Looking down at my messenger bag I began my ritual. Notebook out, push plate across the table, open my laptop, on my left, notebook to my right, my favorite pen next to it- there was that chair scraping against the floor again. "Out of customers?" I asked dryly. It seemed as if I was getting no writing done tonight. 

“G’mornin” the sleepy voice jolted Arthur out of his memories, smiling as Alfred shuffled into the kitchen, tugging a wife beater over his head, bleary-eyed and still half asleep. “You’re up early.” Alfred murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to Arthur’s forehead before moving to the coffee pot. 

“Yes, I woke up and wasn't tired anymore, so I decided to stay awake.” grabbing the handle on the fridge Arthur pulled out the milk, sliding it across the counter as the Alfred searched the cabinets for a coffee mug.

"Mn, surprised when I didn't find you in your office at the computer."

"No" Arthur shrugged, opting to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island, rather than lean against the counter. "I was just thinking, I haven't been awake that long."

"Thinking about what? If this is about me eating all pretzels."

"No. You dolt" Arthur scowled, kicking the American's shin as he sat on the stool next to him, long body angled towards him. He leaned on his elbow, staring at Alfred who was looking at him in confusion. "While I was making tea and coffee...I was reminded of the first time we met."

"At the coffee shop." a smile lifted Alfred's mouth, eyes lighting up. "Ya, I remember that evening. You looked so surprised to see me behind the counter. " he laughed.

"And then you were there every single time I came in thereafter." Arthur shook his head in amusement. "I thought I was never going to meet another deadline. All you wanted to do was chat when I came in."

"For the first two months at least."Alfred grinned propping his chin in his hand as he leaned forward, strong coffee mixing with the scent of earl gray. "Then I finally asked you out on our first date." 

“Two whole months” Arthur teased, smiling at the memory...

Six O'clock on the dot I entered the small coffee shop, pulling off my black hat and unwinding my thick scarf. It was snowing again, the weatherman had been right for once. The coffee shop was a quiet buzz like it ordinarily was. I felt the tension of the day melt from my shoulders like chocolate in a child's hands. I had felt crushed beneath the behemoth force of writer's block all day.

"Hey Arthur!" and, the peace and quiet, ruined. Looking towards the front counter, I watched as Alfred waved at me from around another customer. I had to blink, double checking that sun blindness that hadn't altered his vision. A mirror of Alfred himself was standing across him at the counter.

"Good evening Alfred."

"Cool! Now I can introduce you two!" Alfred's 1000 watt smile fundamentally lit up the room as he waved at me wildly gesturing me forward. "Arthur this is my twin brother Matthew!"

"Nice to meet you. I'm Arthur." Sticking out my hand I shook the blonde's hand. That explains why the newcomer looked so much like Alfred. I managed a smile as Matthew gave me a polite, quiet greeting. It seemed they may look alike, but the brothers had temperaments on the opposite side of the spectrum. Grabbing out my wallet I slid the cash onto the counter.

"London Fog and a scone! The usual!" Alfred beamed.

"Nice to meet you," I mumbled to Matthew and headed towards my table. At least with Alfred's brother here maybe I could get some writing done. Shrugging out of my coat I stared at the abysmal weather that roared down the street. I almost hadn't come, opting for the comfort of my small heated flat to driving in all the snow. But being a creature of habit pushed me forward. And I'd never say it out loud, but I had come to rather enjoy the lively blonds conversations. They broke any writer's block that I was facing and I often found inspiration in those baby blues. Opening up my laptop, I clicked on a document, the collection of words flashing to life on my screen. The current magazine I was writing for had asked me to construct a short story for their 'Welcome the Holidays' event. I looked at the date in the bottom right corner of the screen. Well, it was December thirteenth, no wonder they wanted it by the nineteenth. It was almost Christmas. Christmas. I paused. It was a strange holiday happy and melancholy blended perfectly together. Christmas was about family and loved ones, but what was a British journalist who lived alone with his cat in a flat in America supposed to do with all that. That was the melancholic portion of Christmas. Mentally shaking my head free of the inevitable downward spiral I focused on the task at hand on the screen, fingers clicking away at the abused springs of the keyboard. Time had no meaning, yet the next time I looked up I saw that Alfred was sitting across the small table, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. Shooting a glance at the counter I took note that Toris and Feliks stood behind it going over what appeared to be an inventory sheet. 

“Oh good! Are you done?” Alfred beamed up at me, tucking the device away inside of a bomber jacket he had put on after it he removed his apron.

“No. Not done really. It needs edits.” I glanced back at the screen to check the time. “You are off early...and you're hanging around?” it wasn’t so much a question as a simple observation. 

“Well ya, I wanted to ask you a question before I peaced out, yet you were super absorbed in your work so I didn’t want to bother you.” he shrugged, running a large hand through that wheat-colored hair of his. 

“Oh.” I looked at my empty teacup, debating on placing another order. “And that question would be?”

 

“I wanna take you out to dinner next week. What’a ya say?” 

*** 

“And then you stared at me like I was an idiot.” Alfred groaned, laying his head tiredly on the counter as if the memory caused him physical pain. 

“Oh come now. It honestly wasn’t that bad. Plus, how did you expect me to react? The question came out of the blue.”

“It did not! We had been flirting forever by that point.”

“If that's what you call flirting. Love you need to recheck your perception.” Arthur sniffed, sliding from his stool and exiting the kitchen, steaming cup in hand. 

“Hey, where are you going!”

“To the living room. The couch and blankets offer much more comfortable reminiscing accommodations.” Arthur snarked, cringing when the feet of the stools scraped harshly against the tile. They would need to get that waxed soon. Tile turned to plush carpet around his socked feet as the pair entered the modest living room. Bookshelves lining the walls in overburdened shelves, a large couch flanked by two armchairs and lamps, all facing a large telly attached to the wall. The soft hues of blue and green created a relaxing atmosphere that welcomed anyone who came in through the front door. Two blankets, thick and patriotic were folded neatly over the top of the coach. Both red, white and blue. Settling into the middle cushion Arthur pulled the Union Jack patterned blanket over his lap, Alfred sitting to his left and doing the same, but dropped his thighs in stars and stripes. Eyes of spring green slid over the multitude of consoles and video games crammed onto another shelf beneath the telly. The house was so them. Warmth increased once more at the thought as he turned to face Alfred, tucking his feet beneath himself. 

“But you did say yes,” Alfred said suddenly, picking up where they had left off in the kitchen. 

“For some reason.” he snorted. 

“Because no says no to the hero!”

“Oh is that what it was?” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on! You're being so mean! We went two dates right after that. On top of chatting at the cafe.” 

“And for some reason, it worked.” Arthur’s nose scrunched as if smelling something foul “and I even gave into that horrid freezing request.”

“The Christmas Eve date!” Alfred laughed excitedly. “That was one of my favorites!” and despite Arthur’s gruffness, he couldn’t help as the memory of that specific event came to the forefront of his mind. 

“It was cold” Smiling quietly Arthur sipped his tea as he watched America blow on the coffee steaming in his cup. It was simple and nothing out of the ordinary but it made happiness bubble in his chest. Leaning back against the overstuffed couch cushions he watched the blue-eyed blonde with a small smile. 

“Is there something on my face?” Alfred looked up with a smile as he felt Arthur's eyes on him. Leaning over to close the space between them Alfred pressed a warm kiss to his mouth. The green-eyed blond leaned forward, reciprocating the gentle kiss. The fingers running along Arthur’s jaw pulled a hum of pleasure from the young man before he pulled back with a soft smile. 

“No, nothing on your face, just thinking”


End file.
